Endless, unyielding boredom
Stalls the words on my lips
Cuts the thoughts in my mind
Chases letters from my fingertips.

The color fades from my eyes
And life becomes bleak and grey
I hunger, cook, and eat
But it is bland, without taste.

My mind is barren in the spaces
Where ideas used to flow
The handle melts away from the door
And I've no other place to go.

The sun runs into the moon
The moon burrows into the sky
Hours become excruciating weeks
That sluggishly sprint on by.

Sentences become voices
Ever loud, relentlessly speaking
My eyes are my worst enemy
Never finding, always seeking.

Concise and simply stated
With boredoms' additions, I am less
I survive listlessly
Without purpose, without rest.